


My Lady Death

by TheWanderingJade



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Song Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:16:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingJade/pseuds/TheWanderingJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't sleep, so he takes a walk...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lady Death

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Sweet Lady Death written by Oscar Isaac and Niall Rasputin. Because I couldn’t find the lyrics up anywhere…I just wrote them down from the video (hopefully I got them right)

Maybe it was cliché, he wasn’t sure he gave a damn. There was a weariness in his soul, he had come home--back to Brooklyn, but he felt just as empty and lost. No. Not empty.

Steve was full of much, there was anger, hatred, tiredness, betrayal--more than enough to feed his demons. Somehow he still held onto what kept them at bay though, somehow he still held onto hope--though there were plenty of days where he wasn’t sure what he was holding out hope for...

He wandered the neighborhood at night, when he couldn’t sleep--much to the ever increasing annoyance of his neighbor Miss Mary, who disagreed with him being out and about when anything might happen to him, like a cold--he couldn’t help it. It didn’t make him sleepy, didn’t keep the thoughts at bay, but it helped all the same--something to do.

Walking the length of DeKalb Avenue until he crossed Washington Park, and let his feet take him past the gate of Fort Greene Park, Steve had no reason to think that pre-dawn morning would be any different at all. He was wrong.

He was in no rush as he walked down the path, he could see the Prison Ship Martyr’s Monument lit up a ways off, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh--wondering how long his country would be at war. He had no real direction, just following the right side of the path he had walked in from; predawn didn’t usually bring out many other people, at least not on days that the Park didn’t have some sort of event. All was quiet...if only he could trick his mind into thinking all was well, too.

Steve headed towards the Prison Ship Martyr’s Monument, if only to give himself something to contemplate when his pace slowed at a peculiar sound. In the general, city quiet, a steady strumming had started, there was a bit of a twang to it--and he found himself following the sound further down the path.

There in the predawn of the Brooklyn day, stood a lone guitarist, singing for the trees, benches, and the doric column of the monument--save for himself, and the usual squirrels and birds, Steve was sure there was no one else to hear her.

_“Sweet lady death...._

_sweet lady death,_

_Got heaven in your big bright eyes,_

_and the Devil on your breath._

_Sweet lady Death.”_

As he came closer, Steve watched the woman, he couldn’t make out her age, but the closer he got the more he could really take her in. She had been smart enough to pull on some sort of jacket, and though done up, he could see the collar of a tee just under the open lapels,what could have been a proper scarf, draped over her shoulders, not at all covering her neck, he thought he could make the chain of a necklace, but was still too far to be sure. Her jeans were torn--but whether from real distress or simply for fashion, he wouldn’t know, and brown boots that stopped right under her knees seemed worn--from what he hoped was loving devotion to them. Her hair reminded him for a moment of wilderness, the closer he got, curls too messy to be anything other than natural were seemingly kept at bay under a well worn knitted hat--he almost swore he recognized the little badges on it; but now he was standing before her and it’d be rude not to look at her face.

_“Sweet lady Death,_

_Sweet lady Death,_

_Once you get those pretty hooks inside,_

_There ain’t no escaping left.”_

She arched a brow at him in question, but the way the corners of her mouth twitched as she played, gave Steve the impression she was merely amused, but not surprised to see him. He wondered if he knew her, or if he should--but her face didn’t seem familiar. Not in the oval shape, with round bright brown eyes under well kept arched eyebrows, and button nose. Even her full lips tinged in pale pink, seemed to betray a sense of mischief and knowledge he couldn’t place his finger on; but it was reflected in all of her as he took her in. A mixture of familiarity, curiosity, and something akin to comradery settled between them as she stopped her singing, her fingers never left the strings though her notes became softer.

“You’re up early or is it too late?” There was something warm in her tone, her smile easy on her lips for him--Steve didn’t know if he could trust her.

“Does either matter? Do you play here a lot?” He was impressed, her fingers didn’t falter as she kept going through the song.

“More often than not. I suppose it only matters with how you look at it, in the end.” There was a note of laughter in her tone, as if she were hearing a joke only she was privy to.

“It’s a good song...And a nice guitar.” He nodded at her instrument, allowing his gaze to settle on how she worked the strings along the fingerboard, while she answered.

“Kind of you, thanks. But it’s not mine...just a bit of a cover...You never know what lost souls will respond to.” Her words struck him, as the light shifted into brighter pink hues overhead; there was something in her eyes that spoke of so much...yet she seemed too young.

 “That makes you sound like some kind of piper...” He chuckled, brushing it off as a playful, if odd comment to make, but the music stopped as her fingers stilled and everything around them seemed to flip into sharp focus.

It seemed like an eternity as they held each other’s gaze, the stillness of the world around them melting away with the brightening hues of the sky over them. Until she smiled at him, and with the ease of having done so, countless times before, swung her guitar to her back.

“You should go home, Captain...the bluebirds will be chirping soon.” Her smile did not falter, and the slight raise of her chin was not lost on him--but still he stared.

“Excuse me...?” Steve couldn’t help the tension when his rank, his title--fell with a caress from pale pink lips. He studied her again, her face up close--the makeup she wore betrayed little while accenting the glow of her skin, the bright of her eyes, and the underlying temptation of her lips. Another sweep of his gaze, and he confirmed she was a woman grown--it was less in the curve of her hip, or chest, and more in the security of her stance as she crossed her arms at him.

“The sun is rising, the bluebirds calling...and you dear Captain...should return to your neighbors...” All at once she seemed older than even him, and then she tilted her head, and the flash of a pinned badge--sporting the pattern of his own shield--broke him out of his stupor.

“Maybe I’ll catch the rest of that song...some other time...” He felt himself gift her a smile, as he turned to walk back to the gate..

“Oh...you’ll have time...” Her voice betrayed her amusement again, yet when Steve turned to look at her....she was nowhere to be found. He half paused in his step, wondering if he hadn’t just missed which way off the path she went, when a swooping noise overhead caught his attention--a bluebird searching for a better perch arched higher on a tree.

He wondered if it was nesting time as he headed back...

When he saw her again, he momentarily wondered if she owned a pair of jeans that were un-ripped--but quickly chastised himself for the thought, he didn’t know anything about this woman, and she certainly didn’t owe him an explanation of her wardrobe.  He sat on a bench this time, and listened to the verse that followed what he had heard last...

__

_“Your kiss tastes like Skittles,_

_And your body sweet as soda pop,_

_And every time you leave the room,_

_I can feel my blood sugar drop.”_

__

_“My mind is blank as Heroine,_

_And my heart thumps like Cocaine,_

_Your lovin’ has got me speedballin’,_

_like I’m sleeping on a runaway train”_

__

_“Sweet lady death...._

_sweet lady death,_

_Got heaven in your big bright eyes,_

_and the Devil on your breath._

_Sweet lady Death.”_

__

_“Sweet lady Death,_

_Sweet lady Death,_

_Once you get those pretty hooks inside,_

_There ain’t no escaping left.”_

Steve wasn’t sure where the sudden imagery of working a plump pink bottom lip between his teeth came from, but the thought flushed him in a way that made his skin prickle, and his breath catch. But morning again, came too soon, on the heels of the chorus he was learning so well, and the bluebirds broke his haze--she sent him away with a teasing smile that would cling to him for weeks whenever he closed his eyes.

His distraction didn’t go quite so unnoticed, and though it was a few more weeks before he found himself again at Fort Greene Park, there waiting for him at the entrance off of Dekalb and Washington, was Natasha. His humming of the chorus had piqued Natasha’s interest, and her appearance took Steve by slight surprise.  
  


“What are you doing here, Natasha?” His pace slowed to meet her, unsure of heading straight down the path as he had done before, until he knew why his friend was interested in his night time walks.

“Your singer sounds interesting, I wanted to hear her myself.” Natasha’s tone showed her amusement, though Steve knew there was genuine curiosity at the situation. Shrugging, he gave her a nod and headed down the path towards the monument, trying not to think of the probability that the singer wouldn’t be there or would have just gone at his bringing someone else.

Though he swore to himself that with Natasha they had to walk further than when he was alone, his singer didn’t seem at all concerned--so he took that as a good thing, even when Natasha subtly assessed the woman, as she sang the song up to the point he had heard it, before adding on the rest.

_“My Angels want your body,_

_And my Demons crave your heart,_

_And the push and pull,_

_of Dog and Bull,_

_Is going to rip my soul apart”_

__

_“Your eyes light up like matches,_

_And your love pours gasoline,_

_I’m so deep in your forest now,_

_That nobody is going to hear me scream.”_

He was grateful that with Natasha there, partly because he couldn’t help but watch her reactions, the song didn’t evoke quite as vivid imagery as it had before. Yet, the singer was still a mystery to him, and her song seemed to weave through his thoughts.

_“Sweet lady death...._

_sweet lady death,_

_Got heaven in your big bright eyes,_

_and the Devil on your breath._

_Sweet lady Death.”_

__

_“Sweet lady Death,_

_Sweet lady Death,_

_Once you get those pretty hooks inside,_

_There ain’t no escaping left.”_

“So will you tell us your name?” He had clapped once the song was done, and the woman smiled as she quite clearly, through her amusement, gave them a bow.

“Ah, but I already have.” It was the first time, that Steve could remember seeing her pull off the guitar, and prep it to be carried properly on her back. The demeanour that utterly confused him, was unchanged in front of Natasha, and he felt a sense of relief at the thought.

“I don’t think you did, you mostly sing, before shooing me off...” If the woman found it intimidating that Natasha was staring her down, she did well in ignoring it.

“Oh...dear Captain. You have everything you could need from me...for now. You’ll do well,both of you, I’m sure. You should go...the bluebird already sings.” He had never seen her in quite so much light as in that moment, and though he felt Natasha’s hand on his arm, he didn’t quite move right away.

*“Peut-être que je vous reverrai, quand vous êtes perdu.” Her smile was sad this time and he understood it before her lips parted with her words; Natasha succeeded and tugging him away as he answered.

“On va voir” He raised his arm, giving her a bit of a wave as he followed Natasha back to the gate of the Park.

“You’re not crazy. She’ll be gone before we reach the gate. I’ve seen this once before...” Natasha’s brow furrowed as they walked towards the gate.

“Thanks Natasha, you can see her though. She’s real...” He could feel the skin at the nape of his neck prickle at the unsaid.

“I said I’ve seen it before. I didn’t think it was real...” Natasha’s eyebrow arched as they crossed the gate, and neither seemed to be able to help it, as they glanced back; the singer wasn’t there...but lingering in the breeze was her voice, if ever just faintly.

****  


_“Sweet lady death...._

_sweet lady death,_

_Got heaven in your big bright eyes,_

_and the Devil on your breath._

_Sweet lady Death.”_

__

_“Sweet lady Death,_

_Sweet lady Death,_

_Once you get those pretty hooks inside,_

_There ain’t no escaping left.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> *“Maybe I'll see you again, when you're lost.”


End file.
